In Goblin Ale Veritas
by SpyGirl1969
Summary: Seventeen years after Sarah Williams defeated the Goblin King's Labyrinth, she walks back into his life… literally. Unfortunately, her timing leaves much to be desired; it's the eve of his wedding.


Disclaimer: Labyrinth and all associated characters, places and situations belong to The Jim Henson Company. I do not claim to own anything but the original storyline and any original characters.

Summary: Jareth drinks to escape the reality of his impending marriage to a woman he neither loves nor respects. Seventeen years after Sarah Williams defeated his Labyrinth, she walks back into his life… Is it serendipity? Is she even real? Or is there more to her arrival than meets the eye?

Rating: M

Author's Note: I needed a prompt to write a short story, which is what usually gets me back into the swing of things. I asked my beta, and she suggested a drunk!Jareth story in which he accidentally summons Sarah Underground. I used the drunk!Jareth part and instead of having him summon her, had her show up on her own, and voila! "In Goblin ale Veritas" was born. So I thank my beta, magialuna, for both the idea and the beta-ing, without which this story wouldn't be nearly as good. Thanks for all the DB video and picture sharing, too. ;-P

Author's Note II: A while back, I deleted all my stories from this site. It's been very gratifying to be contacted by and hear that my beta/partner-in-crime has been contacted by several people asking where the stories went. She happened to have some of them still and recently forwarded them to me, so I'm shining them up and reposting the ones I can. :0)

**In Goblin Ale Veritas**

Jareth, King of the Goblins, was bored. Sitting upon his throne with one leg thrown over the side in his usual fashion, he bounced his booted foot up and down. He rested his chin upon one fist, staring out over the goblins, who were currently attempting to teach a chicken to 'fetch' a stick. The chicken seemed as bored as Jareth felt, and he felt a surge of empathy for the witless bird.

Sighing loudly, Jareth frowned. Tomorrow was meant to be a happy day, all things considered. Not that he really idid/i happy, but still… He should be looking forward to it, trying on his spectacularly glitter-adorned attire and preening before the mirror in anticipation of showing off the result to his beloved. Instead, he was dreading the dawning of the new day. He ought to have been having his hair trimmed to perfection, his fingernails manicured and his back and shoulders massaged, but he had cancelled all of the pampering sessions that had been set up for him by his advisor. He simply couldn't bear to begin the process which led to this dreaded event any sooner than was absolutely necessary.

Princess Enchantriella, as her parents had so unfortunately named her, was upstairs in the suite of rooms that would officially belong to her in a matter of – he glanced at the clock on the wall – twenty five hours. He was quite certain that she was currently trying on her gown, twirling before the full-length mirror like a ridiculous thing, dancing around and pretending that the man she was about to marry was head over heels in love with her.

Jareth was decidedly inot/i in love with Enchantriella, or 'Ella' to her friends. He was not in love with anyone, hence his current problem. Marriage was something that was being forced upon him, and therefore it was something he wanted to reject whole-heartedly. Only he couldn't reject it; he had early this year turned one hundred and seventy four years of age; in three weeks' time he would turn one hundred and seventy five years of age. If he were not married by his birthday, he would not only lose the Goblin throne but also any chance of ever ascending to a higher court.

He would also gravely disappoint his parents as well as all of his friends, and be eternally subjected to life as a courtier with no real merit or purpose in life to speak of. It was an impossible future to consider for a man who had been a King for longer than he cared to consider… a dedicated and fair king for the most part, he liked to think. He shuddered to imagine what could become of his hapless subjects should he be removed from them.

Sighing again, he frowned when he felt something tapping his knee. Glancing down with mild curiosity, he saw that a skinny goblin named Grover was watching him with round, apprehensive eyes. "Yes?" he prompted, gesturing vaguely with his free hand that Grover hurry up and speak.

"Whatsamattah, Kingah?" he asked in his raspy voice, his too-large helmet shifting so that it covered his face to his pug nose. "Grover needah getchoo sumpin' ta make yah happy?"

"I thank you for the thought," Jareth replied with forced patience, "but there is nothing you could give me that would render me anything less than completely, horribly miserable."

The goblin tilted his head as he processed this information, causing his helmet to slide to one side, exposing one eye. Coming to whatever conclusion he had, he then nodded and grinned. "Kingah be happy if Kingah drinkah some goblin ale," he replied slyly. "Grover getcha some."

"No, Grover, that will not be…" Jareth started to say. The little scab had scurried off across the room, however, and Jareth's attempt at refusal was lost in the crowd's noisy excitement over the fact that the chicken was 'fetching' grain. A success story, indeed… The Goblin King rolled his eyes, feeling the stirrings of a migraine.

Moments later, he caught sight of Grover, a huge mug of ale in his grubby little hands, stumbling through the throngs of triumphant chicken trainers who were now teaching a second chicken to 'fetch' grain. The way the poor goblin was weaving across the room, bumping into his compatriots in a drunken fashion, gave testament to the strength of the brew. In less than five minutes, Grover had become completely sloshed. Somewhere along the way, he had misplaced his helmet, and his shock of thick pea-green hair stood on end, given life by static electricity.

Rubbing his face, Jareth wondered whether a few hours spent in blissful numbness might not be a good thing after all. When Grover reached the throne, a goofy grin of satisfaction plastered all over his idiotic and somewhat grotesque face, Jareth nodded his thanks. Taking a whiff of the ale – which from the pungent aroma was stronger than usual – he shrugged and tilted back his head, downing the contents in a few quick gulps before he could change his mind. It was not as though the pleasure lay in the taste of the horrid brew, after all. What Jareth was looking for was the effect the ale would shortly have.

"Wowwah," Grover whispered in awe, swaying on his feet. "Kingah very brave-ah!" So stating, he promptly collapsed at Jareth's feet in a snoring heap.

Within seconds Jareth's spirits had vastly improved. He felt almost… jovial. It was no wonder the goblins, with their pointless, dismal existence, indulged in the stuff so often. Standing, he grabbed a traffic-cone-hat-wearing goblin whose name he couldn't remember. "You remind me of the babe."

"What babe?" the goblin asked excitedly, playing along. They always loved this exchange, and it had been a long time since he had indulged them. In fact, the last time had been…

"The babe with the power," Jareth replied, banishing the memory of the last time he had said these words.

Another goblin rushed forward, stepping on the still-unconscious Grover's face. "What power?"

Grinning and feeling better by the second, Jareth said, "Power of voodoo."

"Who do?"

"You do!" He pointed.

"Do what?"

"Remind me of the babe…" The effectiveness of the song was lost when Jareth belched rather loudly, causing the goblins to fall to the ground in fits of hysterics. The rest of the song would have to wait, for Jareth was no longer in the mood for singing and dancing about. His thoughts had taken an unexpected turn, and his temporary good mood was fast disappearing.

Taking his empty stein with him, Jareth made his way across the throne room, nearly stepping on the current chicken fetching trainee. Helping himself to more ale, he raised his brew to the room in general, murmuring a toast of sorts, and downed it, hoping to drown thoughts of a certain blonde, blue-eyed babe and, more precisely, the sister who had won him back.

No. I am not allowing thoughts of **her** into my mind. Not today!

Jareth hiccupped. Tomorrow he would marry a bride who had been "hand-selected" for him by his parents. He laughed bitterly. What a joke… They had no idea what he wanted in a wife. Enchantriella was a blue-eyed, strawberry blonde with pale skin and a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her perfect nose. She was like a life-size doll, so petite and fragile were her features. He feared he would break her in half while they were consummating their union – which he was in no hurry to do. Her personality was as fragile as were her slight, willowy limbs; he had already caused her to burst into tears on five separate occasions without even trying. There was no way the meek little thing would ever stand up to him, which was a real shame, as a fiery disposition fueled his passion as well as his respect.

Jareth's vision swam. Staggering over to the window, he sat down on the wide ledge, careful to stay closest to the inside edge lest he fall, which was a distinct possibility. Looking out over his Labyrinth, he leaned his back against the stone sill and took a deep breath. Memories flooded his mind – things he had not allowed himself to dwell upon in ages. They came unbidden, and he was unable to stop them once they started. He should never have started the whole "you remind me" game.

He had proposed to but one female, and that had been several years ago. She was a runner, and she was very young. Having wished away her younger brother without truly meaning it, and she resolutely made her way through his Labyrinth in record time, despite the fact that he took away several hours and repeatedly attempted to trick her. It was she who caused him to have an affinity for long, lustrous dark hair and fiery green eyes. It was she who ignited a desire in him for not only a mate but one who was his match in temperament as well as passion, intelligence as well as cunning. Unfortunately, she had also been his match in the capacity for thoughtless cruelty.

He hadn't allowed himself to think about her in depth for years, and yet he knew that she had never been far from the forefront of his mind. It disturbed him greatly that she had virtually ruined every other female for him. No one since had ever measured up; none had even come close, and he had gone through quite a few women in his effort to drive her out of his consciousness. It was easy to imagine what a beautiful, vivacious woman she would become, though he never allowed himself to seek her out Aboveground… not even once.

He became infuriated every time he thought of how she had blithely refused him and used the words that took her back home. And so he had forced himself to lock away her memory, even forget her name. He referred to her in his mind only as 'the girl'. It had taken some doing, but his was a disciplined mind, and after a few years, he had relegated her to the dark oubliette in the back of his memories.

For years afterward, he had sought dark-haired, green-eyes females of the Underground, inviting them into his castle and seducing them, only to be severely disappointed in them for one reason or another. Not to mention, he mused, their own great displeasure on the several occasions when he had inevitably called them "Sarah" in the heat of the moment.

The Goblin King's heart stopped beating for several seconds. He had remembered her name. That was all it took for further visions of her to spring to mind, wreaking havoc all over again. Lifting his head away from the wall, he let it bang back again, cursing at the pain. This would not do. The goblin ale was meant to make him happy, lighten his mood. All it had done so far was force him to remember the true reason he did not want to get married tomorrow!

Perhaps he hadn't drunk enough. Lifting one eyebrow, he felt it was entirely possible. Hopping out of the window, he weaved his way back over to the keg and instead of refilling his mug, grabbed a nearby cask and filled it, spilling a large splash of ale into the mouth of the purple goblin on the floor beneath the spigot. Saluting him sloppily, Jareth stumbled out of the throne room and outside the castle, into the sunshine. From the window, he had spotted a perfect tree to sit under and enjoy becoming completely, disgustingly crocked.

It was a beautiful, warm day; there was no need for him to worry about needing a vest or coat. The low-riding black leather breeches and boots and white flowing shirt were adequate for the weather, even if the shirt was open nearly to his navel. The light breeze tickled his skin as he walked purposefully toward the immense tree under which he planned to drink himself into a pleasant stupor. With any luck, it would last until tomorrow.

Sinking somewhat gracefully to a sitting position, Jareth leaned his back against the trunk, drawing one knee up while stretching the other leg out. Resting his left arm on his upraised leg, he held the cask of ale with the right, taking occasional sips to further allow himself to slip into blissful non-feeling.

Damn the girl for returning to the forefront of his thoughts! It was simply… he smirked… not fair. If she had only accepted his offer, he would be a contented man today. He didn't know how he knew this, but he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the one chance he had ever had at being genuinely happy… not that he was given to being very happy, but still. True, they would have fought all the time, invigorating battles of wit and will, but they would have made up every evening by firelight, their passion extending to every aspect of their relationship. After years of suppressing all memory of her, she was once again front and center, reminding him of all that he had lost as sure as if she were standing before him.

Did she ever think of him at all? Did she ever remember him as anything other than a monster, a villain? Had she been even a little bit tempted to accept him? She would have been a queen, she would have become like him, and she would have had his undying love and devotion. Had he not offered to be her slave and give her the dreams of her heart? But it was of no use to rage and vent his anger and frustration over events long over. What was done was done and what was said was said. He had spent all of his fury for the first few years after she turned him down; it had done nothing but leave him bitter and physically weakened. All that was left was an empty void and a need to forget.

Ironically, the ale that ought to have pushed the unpleasant memories even deeper still had caused them to surface stronger than ever. How was it even possible that he still desired her… craved her… after so long? Seventeen years, by her world. She would be thirty-two years old, an age by which she would almost certainly be married or seriously attached, perhaps with a child or two of her own. The thought made him sick with jealousy. Jealousy over some ridiculous, unknown pathetic, human man… a human man who got to touch Sarah, hold her, love her. At least he had better love her, and love her well, whoever he was. He found he could not bear the thought of her being treated badly.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. There was no point in fighting his destiny or bemoaning his fate. Tomorrow he would be married… forever attached to the pathetic and delicate Enchantriella, and there would never be a chance of his winning Sarah's affections. Had he been more determined, and perhaps a bit less proud, he could have tried to make her another offer, once she was old enough to understand and reciprocate his feelings. But he had wasted time… wasted years as he hurtled closer and closer to an arranged marriage with a lifeless, timid creature to whom he wasn't even remotely attracted.

Briefly he toyed with the notion of going Aboveground and seeking Sarah out. If she were unattached, he might just make his offer again. Was it possible that she would now understand that his motives were pure? Could he convince her of his love for her in less than one day's time? He shook his head morosely. There was no hope for it. He ought to have tried ages ago. Now he would suffer the penalty for his failure to do so.

"Ah, dammittohell!" This was followed by a strangely familiar irritated groan and the sound of rustling in the nearby bushes.

Jareth opened his eyes and looked around, frowning in confusion. It is true that he had Sarah on his mind, and had been going over each feature in detail, remembering the curve of her lips and the sparkle in her eyes, imagining how the years would have changed her pleasing form... Yes, he had even imagined her voice, but it had been saying, "You have no power over me" and "It's a piece of cake" while she looked at him with those remarkably fiery green eyes. It had definitely not been saying, "Ah, dammittohell!"

Shaking his head, he realized that he really must be smashed out of his bloody gourd… The thought made him chuckle, wondering what dear refined "Ella" would think when she found him later, completely inebriated on enough goblin ale to incapacitate a dragon. He would definitely be hung-over for the wedding, he realized, grinning.

The rustling had come to an abrupt halt when he had chuckled, as if he had startled whatever wretched creature was about to come stumbling out of the azaleas. Taking another generous swallow of ale, he casually glanced in the direction from which the sound had come, wondering if he was about to be annoyed or entertained.

He wouldn't have been surprised to see a lost Firey, or perhaps a troop of Brownies… perhaps even Hogwit, coming from a fairy-spraying excursion. Any of these would have been anticipated here in the Labyrinth… none of its denizens would have caused him to bolt upright in shock. But bolt upright in shock he did, for the person he saw emerging could not possibly be whom he thought it was. Jareth blinked rapidly, tilted his head, shook it, and glanced at the cask in his hand as though it were full of some sort of hallucinogenic agent rather than simple ale.

It was… or very much appeared to be… the very object of his current ruminations… Sarah. But it couldn't be Sarah. He was obviously seeing things as a result of his sloshed state and the recent wanderings of his mind. She had, of course, spotted him, and now stood as still as a raven transfixed by a bright, shiny object, as though she could no more believe her eyes than he could his. He was pleased to note that she did not exactly look unhappy to see him.

She fidgeted nervously and smoothed down the front of her dress as though self-conscious under his gaze. Licking her lips, she raised her eyebrows and smiled very slightly. "Uh… fancy meeting you here?" she said, her inflection making her words a question, as though she wasn't sure what to say to him.

The hallucination spoke? Well, of course it did. Had it not uttered the words "Ah, dammittohell!" even before emerging from the bushes? Jareth blinked again, wondering if he had fallen asleep and this was somehow all a dream. If it was, perhaps this hallucination Sarah would come and sit on his lap and begin doing very naughty things… Now ithat/i would be a dream!

"Hello," he said cheerfully, holding up the ale in greeting. "Welcome back."

She pursed her lips and frowned slightly, as if that was the last thing she expected him to say. He drank in the sight of her. Sarah had aged very well indeed. In fact, she was far more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, if that was possible… which, apparently it was, because she was.

She wore a simple red dress with black polka dots and thin straps, and flat black slippers. His previous imaginings regarding her possible adult form had truly not done justice to her. Sarah had filled out quite nicely as a woman, and she was taller. Her long hair was curly; his fingers twitched as he imagined running them through it. Her lips matched the color of the dress, and he longed to taste them. On her arm she carried a small basket.

"Please don't be upset," she said in a sudden rush, moving forward a little ways. "I… I only visit once in a while, and I don't stay for long. I figured it out for myself, how to get here, through my mirror," she added, biting her lip as though nervous. "I guess it's a… a portal, or something."

Jareth inclined his head, waiting for her to go on. It was lovely, just sitting here listening to her speak, looking so exquisite. After a moment, she continued, most likely because he wasn't responding. "I just… I don't want Hoggle or anyone to get into trouble because I figured it out. And really, if you didn't want me coming through, you should have blocked it, or something. But if you're going to blame someone, blame me."

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Amazing," he finally said, still enjoying just staring at her. His imagination was a wonderful thing when enhanced by Goblin ale. "It's like you're really here," he went on, painfully aware that he was slurring. He didn't want to appear to be a tanked idiot, even to a hallucination Sarah.

Sarah took another tentative step forward. "Are you… drunk?"

Smiling lazily, Jareth nodded. He was vaguely aware that his shirt was falling off, and ineffectively tried to straighten it. After all, he wanted to appear dignified, and half-naked was not dignified. The bloody thing didn't cooperate, however, and he gave up. It didn't matter, anyway, as Sarah wasn't really here. He could strip off completely if he wanted; he was alone with his imagination. "I am afraid that… I am," he replied slowly, enunciating each word.

"Why?" she asked curiously, moving closer still. The closer she came, the more beautiful she was. He could even smell her imaginary perfume, which was marvelous.

He shrugged. "What do you Abovegrounders call it? Oh, yes… bachelor party… party of one," he said, taking another drink. "Two, now, if you plan to stay, and I do so hope you do. Perhaps you can jump out of a large hollow cake." He grinned, obviously pleased with the mental image.

Sarah lowered herself to her knees, right in front of him. If he reached out, he would be able to touch her, if she were actually real, and not a hallucination. "Hey, take it easy on that stuff," she said softly, covering his hand with her own as she applied gentle pressure so that he would lower the cask. He could ifeel/i her. "What do you mean by bachelor party?" she asked, a light frown creasing her brow. "You're… getting married?"

He was still amazed that she hadn't run screaming as soon as she saw him. Here she was, sitting right in front of him, talking to him and expressing concern for him. iTouching him./i And she seemed none-too-pleased at the idea of his imminent marriage, which was remarkable and wonderful and impossible. Instead of answering right away, he set down the ale and took her hand in his, wondering what she would do. She glanced down at their joined hands and then back up at his face, and her green eyes were wide with surprise. She did not, however, make any attempt to pull her hand away.

"Yes. Tomorrow I wed," he informed her, noting that her eyes had wandered from his face to his exposed chest. He tried again to fix the errant garment, but it was elusive and he gave up again. Besides, Sarah seemed to approve of its current state, if the way she was blatantly staring at him was any indication. "Today iss my lasst day of freedom," he explained unnecessarily, lingering over his s's so that they didn't slur into sh's.

"I see," she said, and he thought he caught a glimpse of something indefinable in her eyes... something like disappointment. "Congratulations," she added, her voice oddly flat.

He shook his head. "No, that's all wrong," he replied, frowning. "You're my hallucination, and I don't want you to congrast… congla… congratulate me."

"Why do you say I'm a hallucination?" she asked intensely, staring into his eyes.

Jareth smiled a little, glancing down to where he still clasped her hand. Stroking his thumb over her skin, he shrugged. "Because it's impossible that you would appear just when I was thinking about you, which I have not allowed myself to do in years," he said confidently, pleased that his speech was sounding more normal.

"You were thinking about me?" she said, sounding a bit breathless and looking… What did she look? Hopeful? Yes, that was it; she definitely looked hopeful. He could feel her pulse pounding faster beneath the pad of his thumb. "Why were you thinking about me?"

He closed his eyes. This made no sense. Perhaps it was because he was fairly toasted, but he couldn't make sense of it. It was easier to believe that Sarah had found a way to visit the Underground than it was to believe that she could be pleased about his thinking about her. So he asked, "Why are you here, Sarah?"

"If I'm nothing but a hallucination," she said slowly, calculation in her eyes, "then that's a question for you to answer."

He opened his eyes again and peered at her. So, not everything about her had changed; that was very, very good. "Contrary, cheeky, gorgeous thing. Humor me and answer."

"I… was coming to surprise Hoggle, Didymus and Ludo," she replied with a small shrug. "I baked them some cookies."

"Cookies?" he said with interest, looking at the basket pointedly. "Cookies, tra la la?"

She nodded, smiling a little at his words as though the memory of the last time he said them to her was a pleasant one. "Yeah, but I dropped the basket when I came though the portal, and they all spilled out," she said, gesturing at the offending basket. "I'd offer you some, but they all got dirty. I know the guys won't mind, but-"

"I do not mind, either," he cut in imperiously, unable to believe she was trying to get out of sharing her baked goods with him.

Sarah looked startled. "Oh! Well…" She gently – and reluctantly? – extracted her hand from his. He wished he'd kept his mouth shut about the damn cookies. But, since she was willing to give him some…

Reaching into the basket of treats, she pulled out three of them and placed them in his waiting hand. "There you go," she said. "Just don't judge them too harshly. I don't put soil in them, as a rule."

He grinned at her knowing it was lopsided and goofy, and not caring. She missed it anyway, as her eyes were once again perusing his naked upper body. Munching on a cookie, which was delicious even with bits of Underground on it, he reached out with his free hand to caress her face, delighted when she didn't flinch or pull away. He realized belatedly that he had forgone his gloves… or lost them along the way.

"So strange," he said between bites. "I can actually ifeel/i you. Perhaps I'm merely dreaming rather than hallucinating. Yes, that makes a great deal more sense." He nodded to himself as he considered this.

She smiled, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his wrist for a brief moment. "Jareth… I'm not a hallucination. I'm really here. And I'm afraid that once you're sober again, and realize that I'm trespassing in your world, you're going to make my life a living hell."

He frowned. Was he not being entirely civil and charming? "Am not," he replied with as much indignation as he could muster.

"Okay," she said, her tone clearly implying that she didn't believe him. She removed her hand, and he placed his in his lap, brushing away cookie crumbs. "So," she went on. "You're getting m-married tomorrow. Why don't you want congratulations?"

"Because," he said, glad she had dropped the subject of him exacting retribution upon becoming sober. There was no point in arguing over such a ridiculous notion. He had begun to hope that perhaps she was real and not a hallucination, but he was still wary. He had had these kinds of hallucinations before; they had occurred several times upon his drinking too much the first few years after she had gone home. "Your well-wishes for my marriage are not what I want to hear from you, Precious. I would rather you express your outrage, jealousy… I would have you remind me that I proposed to you, and demand who the hell I think I am, marrying anyone but you."

She was staring at him, her mouth hanging slightly open, her green eyes wide and earnest. "Y… you would? I… That is… But I didn't -" Shaking her head, she frowned slightly and then smiled sardonically. "Right. Sure you would. Boy, you really are drunk, aren't you?"

Jareth frowned. She didn't believe him? "Well, yes," he conceded, "but it has nothing to do with my wishes, Sarah. My thinking about you and remembering your name all began before I was… well, before I was wholly inebriated."

"It did?" she asked doubtfully, biting her lower lip. "You're sure you're not just spouting off because of all that horrid ale?"

With a twist of his wrist, Jareth produced a second tankard, which he filled from the cask and offered to Sarah. Raising his eyebrows, he nodded. "Quite sure. Care to drink to the imminent demise of an old enemy, Sarah? Be forewarned, though. You may hallucinate too, and see me as I am seeing you, and then there would be two amorous Goblin Kings vying for your attention."

She nearly choked on her sip of ale. Putting it down with a thump, she looked at him. "Two amorous… Amorous? Pardon me?"

He was greatly encouraged by her confused and startled response and the accompanying flush of her cheeks. Leaning forward, he said in a whisper, "I wonder… yes, I very much would like to know…"

Sarah didn't move; it didn't even seem that she was breathing. He moved closer still and very lightly kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger as long as he dared. It was uncanny, that he could feel her even with his lips. He heard her sharp inhalation when he kissed her, but she didn't slap him or even draw back. That one was hard to figure out; hallucination or not, the Sarah he had known would not have allowed him to kiss her. Of course, she was thirty-two years old now, as opposed to fifteen.

She blinked a few times, placing her hand where his lips had just been. Her brow puckered slightly, she appeared to think for a long moment and then come to a decision. As he watched, she shakily started to get to her feet. "Well, I guess I'd better be going," she began, her voice a little too high-pitched. "Hoggle will—"

It was the fact that she was trembling that decided him. She ought not to be so affected by a kiss on the cheek if he meant nothing to her. He stood with her, somewhat awkwardly. "Stay," he said simply, grasping her wrist to keep her from walking away from him. "Please don't go yet."

Her eyes flicked down to where his hand restrained her, then back up to his face, her expression uncertain. "I don't know… How long will it take you to get sober?"

"Forever," he said earnestly, "if it means that you will stay with me until I do. But I assure you that even sober, I'll be beyond thrilled that you're here."

She blushed. "I didn't mean… What if your… fiancée shows up?"

"She won't," Jareth replied flatly. "The fragile thing does not favor the outdoors, nor do they favor her." The thought almost made him laugh out loud and he would have, if his heart had not been hammering against his ribs.

Sarah licked her lips. "Look," she said. "I know you think I'm not really here, and that your imagination has conjured me up for some insane reason. But I really am here, and I really am nervous that as soon as the haze wears off, you're going to send me into an oubliette, or worse."

"I wouldn't do that," he insisted. He had to wonder why she was staying there, if she was really as afraid of him as she claimed. "Sarah, I've already spent several years vainly trying to forget about you. If you truly are here now, and I'm beginning to believe that you are, there is not a chance that I am going to banish you literally when I couldn't effectively do so in the confines of my own mind."

She averted her eyes, her cheeks growing pink again. As he watched, she bent down and picked up her tankard, taking a long drink. He felt his eyebrows rise as he watched her. Knowing the effect it had on him, he wondered if she would be able to tolerate so much ale. After a long moment, she asked, "Why did you say what you did a minute ago, about drinking to your demise?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied, feeling a bit hopeless. Perhaps he had merely imagined her response to him earlier, she seemed so wary now. The more he looked at Sarah, the more beautiful she was, and the more his 'intended' paled in comparison. How could he ever take the spindly, frail creature into his arms and make love to her when this gorgeous creature before him haunted his dreams?

"Tell me," she insisted.

Jareth sighed. "Enchantriella and I are not to wed for love," he confided.

"Enchantriella?" Sarah interrupted, laughter in her voice. "Tell me that's not her real name!"

"I am afraid it iis/i her real name," Jareth remarked dryly, enjoying Sarah's somewhat malicious amusement. Becoming serious again, he went on. "I must marry, however, and soon. Failing to have secured a bride for myself, my parents have selected one for me. I might as well be ending my life, for I will be bound to her until one of us dies."

"Oh," Sarah replied, sobering and looking thoughtful. "You never found anyone that… you…" She stopped speaking when he shot her a quelling look. How dare she pretend that he had not proposed to her? Surely she hadn't been completely unaware of his desire for her, even though she was young. He had seen awareness in her eyes; she had known his intentions.

"Don't play the innocent, Sarah. You know very well that I once found someone that I…" he shot back sarcastically, please to see her sheepish expression. Circling her, he went on. "However, she rejected me summarily and chose to sever all ties to me, though her hallucination regularly visits the friends she made on her journey through my Labyrinth."

She frowned at him. "I was fifteen! I had to do what I did in order to win Toby back. You never gave me an option or said that you'd send Toby home if I stayed with you. The clock was about to chime thirteen and I had to make a decision, and all I could think of was that you were only trying to trick me!" By the time she finished her impassioned reply, she was breathing heavily, her emerald eyes flashing at him.

His interested piqued, Jareth straightened, watching Sarah carefully. Containing the excitement he felt at her revealing outburst, he asked, "You would have considered options, had they been offered? You would have considered accepting me had I volunteered to send the babe home?"

"I…" Sarah began, her face pink again. Shrugging, she took another sip of ale. She was adorably flustered and quite definitely a little bit drunk. Goblin ale was, after all, quite strong. "I… I don't know," she replied lamely. "Maybe… You were very… um, persuasive. I just wondered, at the time, and still do, it if was just another distraction. It seemed likely. I mean, after all… Why in the world would iyou/i want ime/i?" she concluded breathlessly. Walking over to the tree he'd been reclining against, she lightly touched the bark, seemingly absorbed in the texture.

He regarded her intently. Never before had he looked at things from her perspective, but now that she was here… or rather now that he was imagining or dreaming that she was here, he still wasn't quite sure… he was seriously considering it. Her unspoken admission caused relief to flood through his being. She had not rejected him solely because she found him unacceptable; she had felt duty-bound. Had he amended his proposal to return Toby home regardless of whether she stayed, she might have been with him today, as his wife and queen.

"Oh, but I did want you, Sarah, and I still do," he replied softly, his voice full of meaning. When she blushed and shook her head, he went on. "It was no distraction," he said, wanting to be sure she understood. "You had already won. I… Sarah, I had never been so captivated with a runner before. I interfered personally with you far more than with anyone previously or since. I found it quite… difficult to stay away from you."

"Really?" she asked quietly, glancing over at him quickly.

"What's said is said," he replied simply, moving closer to her. Reaching out, he lightly touched his fingers to her chin, tilting her face so that she had to look at him. "I am captivated by you now more than ever," he whispered. "Kiss me, Sarah… kiss me of your own free will."

Her expression shifted from apprehensive to startled, back to apprehensive and then confused. He could see that her heart was beating rapidly; the pendant on her necklace, a small silver heart, was fluttering wildly against her skin. "K-kiss you?" she stammered.

"Yes, Sarah," he replied patiently, slowly. "A kiss... you merely place your lips against mine and then… caress my mouth with yours."

She blinked as she gaped at him, not catching the hint of humor in his voice as he defined a kiss for her. In fact, she looked utterly serious and perhaps a little bit afraid, but in no way reluctant. She nodded resolutely, as if in answer to some internal prodding, and walked toward him slowly, her eyes never glancing away from him. She looked rather seductive, and Jareth cursed under his breath against the feelings that were coursing through his veins. If she left now after all this – and she likely would – he would surely die.

With painstaking slowness, Sarah stopped and stood facing him, inches away, and leaned toward him. Reaching up, she lightly touched his face, staring at him in something akin to wonder. Her eyes had grown dark with desire and Jareth was startled to realize that Sarah truly wanted to kiss him. She leaned forward, and he could feel her breath on his skin.

When she hesitated, he knew she was having doubts again. Not knowing if she doubted herself or him, he held up his hands in a gesture of submission, moving around her so that his back was against the tree. She turned with him, watching him in puzzlement. He said, his voice low, "Look. I am backed against this tree, and my hands shall stay here at my sides until you tell me I can move them. I am passive… entirely at your command. You may do… whatever you want to me. I am at your mercy. You need not... fear me, Sarah." A small grin told her that he had also been remembering their last heated exchange.

Something sparked in her eyes as she looked at him. He rather felt that she enjoyed seeing him there, backed against a tree, half-undressed and waiting for her to do whatever she wanted. Had she, too, been haunted by dreams and fantasies of him? Her eyes darkened and he saw her chest rising and falling as though her breathing had suddenly become a bit ragged. He nearly purred with satisfaction; this was turning out much better than he could have hoped. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the whiny Enchantriella waited, but he shoved her into a mental closet, bound and gagged, and shut the door.

Sarah slowly moved closer, her eyes raking his body up and down. Had it been anyone else, he would have felt disrespected; one did not ogle the king as though he were a tasty dessert pastry! But this was Sarah. He yearned for her to want him, and the gleam in her eyes told him that she did, indeed, want him. Perhaps he was not the only one who had been captivated seventeen years ago. Obviously she didn't have a husband or significant other Aboveground, or she would not be eyeing him the way a hungry wolf eyes a jackrabbit.

Standing before him, she lifted a hand and placed it on the bare skin of his chest, causing him to shudder. Though he was already dying to touch her, he struggled to keep his hands at his sides. Not looking into his eyes, she studied his torso instead, moving her fingers over his skin. Sarah was touching him as though he was a work of art, and it was driving him mad. She seemed both cautious and fascinated.

"I've always wondered what you felt like," she confided softly, leaning closer, "and you smell heavenly." She continued her lazy caresses and seemed to be entranced by the feel of his soft hair against her cheek. Jareth had never experienced anything quite so erotic, and she hadn't even done anything yet.

When she looked into his eyes, he noted that hers were now nearly black. He knew that she had enough drink in her for it to affect her judgment and he fervently hoped that it wouldn't wear off any time soon. Her breath smelled like ale and strawberries, a heady combination. Her hands shook as she ran them from his abdomen to his shoulder, grazing her nails against his skin along the way. Completely surprising him, she pushed it down so that he was fully exposed to below the waist.

Leaning closer to him, she pressed her lips against his collar bone, nearly causing him to moan. Jareth's own breathing grew labored as Sarah continued her exploration of his upper body. His lower body was equally affected and he was glad for his tight breeches.

She planted several kisses on his shoulder and slowly moved her way up to his neck. He swallowed hard, still keeping his hands to himself. He felt Sarah rise on tip-toe, her body sliding up his to cause a delicious friction. When her lips met his jaw, he hissed in pleasure, knowing she was getting closer to his mouth. What sweet torture this was, and how completely alien to the clumsy, dutiful and emotionless kisses Enchantriella had bestowed upon him the few times he had allowed her to do so. Sarah could cause his blood to boil more furiously than any other female he had ever encountered, and all she had done so far was kiss his shoulder and touch–

Sarah's mouth took possession of his with passionate abandon. Her hands were still running over his chest, but soon he felt them slide lower, squeezing the muscles of his hips. It took monumental effort to keep from thrusting into her. He gasped, and Sarah took advantage of it to slide her tongue into his mouth. Unable to contain himself any longer, he groaned. She was a vixen, tormenting him with her body, hands and mouth.

Suddenly she tore her lips away from his and glared at him indignantly. "What's the matter with you? I'm attacking you against a tree and you won't even touch me!"

He stared at her, breathing heavily. Aware of how passion-aroused he must look, he saw her looking him over again, breathing hard herself. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to; I told you I wouldn't touch you until you gave me permission to do so," he panted, frowning slightly. "Love, I've only just allowed myself to believe that you are really here, and not a product of the ale or my own wishful thinking. Forgive me for desperately seeking not to frighten you away."

Arching an eyebrow at him, she said rather smugly, "You're not going to frighten me away. I want you to touch me. So what are you going to do about it? Are you going to do as I wish or are you going to go back to your castle and your precious Enchilada?"

Jareth shuddered at the thought. "Do not call her 'precious'. That is a name I reserve only for you," he replied dryly, enjoying the way she raised her eyebrows at him. "Sarah, know this. I have never wanted her, not even for a moment. Rest assured that you have obliterated any hope of my ever wanting any woman other than you."

The smile that crept onto Sarah's face could only be described as predatory. Before Jareth could think too much about it, however, he found himself pushed back against the tree once again. Sarah threaded her hands into his hair as she kissed his jaw with torturously erotic open-mouthed kisses. Once again it occurred to him that she was intoxicated; the small amount of goblin ale she had imbibed was far more potent than anything she could drink Aboveground. He was the first to admit, however, that where Sarah was concerned he was hopelessly weak, and so he did nothing to stop her.

Perhaps he should try to forestall her… "Darling, you've had enough ale to drop a horse; are you quite certain—"

He got no further. Pulling back, Sarah said, "Are you trying to say that I'm not in control of my faculties, Goblin King?"

"I'm only pointing out that perhaps we should wait until –"

"I suggest you shut up now," she said testily, "before you get on my nerves. I don't want a solicitous, cautious Goblin King, I want one who knows what he wants and is determined to have it, and to give ime/i what I want. And I can assure you, I know what I want, ale or no ale."

Jareth shrugged, letting his shirt drop from his wrists. "As you wish, Precious." He drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her. He was delighted when she growled in approval. His lips sought hers and claimed them in a kiss so heated it could ignite the massive fireplace in his private chambers… his very secluded, dark and warm private chambers, from which his very large and comfortable bed now beckoned. His heart beat faster at the thought. This morning, Sarah had been no more than a bittersweet, seventeen year old memory, and now, mere hours later she was here, inebriated, kissing him, and…

…and pushing frantically at his breeches. Fearing he would explode, he broke away from her mouth and panted, "Sarah, Precious… Are you aware of what you are doing?"

She looked at him with humorous indignation. "Of course I am," she retorted. "I'm thirty-two years old!"

Resisting the urge to laugh, and truthfully he was in no condition to do so, he shook his head. "I am referring to your clarity of thought, Love. You have consumed a good deal of goblin ale, which is far more potent that anything you are accustomed to—"

"Oh, not that again!" she argued, smoothing her hands over his abdomen in a decidedly seductive manner. Not that Jareth was in need of seducing. His self-containment was at its very limit. All she had to do was say the word and he would give himself over to her completely. "Listen, Jareth. I was infatuated with you for years after I went back home. I didn't win anything, aside from righting the wrong I committed in wishing Toby away in the first place. You… you wouldn't leave me alone. I mean… not you, really, but the memory of you."

He shook his head in confusion. Perhaps he should have said nothing; this was not the best time for going down memory lane. He had gotten stuck on the words 'infatuated with you for years', and it kept replaying in his mind. However, his body, not his mind, was engaged and quite ready to proceed. "I don't understand." At the moment, he didn't really care, either, but he knew if he said that, it would set her off, which was the last thing he wanted.

"I'm getting there," she said testily, circling his nipples with her index fingers. "No boy… and later no man… could ever live up to the expectations I had in my mind. They couldn't compare to you. You want to talk about a basis for comparison? Huh, Jareth? It was like having just a tiny taste of the finest, richest chocolate in the world, and then being subjected to year-old Hershey Kisses for the rest of your life."

Jareth assimilated her words carefully, trying to mull them over in his lust-addled mind. The Underground boasted the most delectable of chocolates; he indulged himself rarely but when he did, he savored each piece. He had tried the repugnant Hershey Kisses on occasion and there was simply no comparison.

And that was how Sarah viewed other men as compared to him? All other men? His heart swelled with a growing sense of hope. "Hershey Kisses are…" Frowning, he sought for words. "…I would rather have nothing," he finished with a slight shrug.

"Exactly!" Sarah exclaimed, poking him in the chest. Reaching up, he rubbed it, frowning slightly. She went on. "So… after years of having only Hershey Kisses to choose from, I finally have a chance to indulge my… sweet tooth," she said evocatively, "with some high quality, deliciously decadent, real chocolate…"

Jareth's mind strayed from Sarah's words to some extraordinarily vivid mental images of precisely where he would like to lick some decadent chocolate from at this moment. First, he would pour some slowly over her... Startled from these rather pleasant thoughts of a Sarah fondue, he became aware that one of Sarah's hands was wandering lower and lower, finally cupping and caressing his derriere. He shuddered again and tried frantically to remain focused on her words.

"And now you're telling me I should put the box down and walk away?" Sarah continued meaningfully.

Startled, he shook his head. "Not at all, Precious," he replied vehemently. "I merely do not want for you to… devour the entire box of these fine chocolates if you're only going to regret doing so come morning. Or worse, realize that they weren't as delicious and decadent as you had always imagined." What? He had never felt such self-doubt with a woman before, what was wrong with him?

She kissed his shoulder blade. "After tomorrow, the chocolates will no longer be available, Jareth. I promise you that I won't regret a thing. I know exactly what I'm doing, and it's something I've thought about for a very, very long time. And unless I'm misunderstanding you hideously, it's something you've wanted too."

Her mouth covered one of his nipples. Her teeth scraped it lightly and then her tongue slid over it soothingly. His voice tight, Jareth fisted his hands at his sides and said tightly, "It is."

"Then you had better decide, Goblin King, where you want to be," she suggested, her voice full of dark promise, "when I finish undressing you." Her fingers toyed with his waistband, slipping inside and running along the quivering muscles of his flat abdomen.

He wrapped his arms around her securely. With a flick of his wrist, they disappeared from the meadow and seconds later reappeared in his chambers. Another flick had the lock sliding shut on the door. Sarah clung to him, surprised by the sudden change in location. She glanced around curiously, and then looked up at him questioningly.

"It was not exactly a difficult decision," he said with a slight shrug.

Sarah nodded seriously. "Good."

"You are… certain?" he asked, feeling suddenly and inexplicably nervous. What they were about to do could possibly result in her hating him, and yet he found himself reluctant to put an end to something he had fantasized about for so long.

She nodded again, a strange look coming into her eyes. "Jareth… I know this makes no sense, and I know that after seventeen years, an hour is a ridiculously short amount of time to be saying this, but… I love you. I always have."

His heart would surely explode now. This was miraculous! It was nothing short of unbelievable, but it was happening. Opening his mouth, he began to return the sentiment when she put a finger over his lips.

"Don't say anything," she admonished him. "Please. I know it's crazy, and I don't expect you to say it in return. That would just be… Well, I'm nothing if not a realist. But… before you send me home, I want this. I want to know what it feels like to be held by you, touched by you."

Before he sent her home?

His mind was so clouded over with confusion that he could barely think. He didn't want to send her home; was she saying she wanted to be sent home? Did she honestly think that after he had known her intimately, held her and caressed her, he would... could send her back and marry Enchantriella? The very thought boggled the mind. Clearly they had things to discuss, and he almost said so… however as she began working at the laces tying his breeches, his train of thought flew out the window.

He stilled her hands for a moment to stoop and remove his boots. When his lifted his eyes to Sarah he had to literally blink and look again. Somehow, she had silently removed her dress while he was occupied. Her red dress lay pooled at her feet; she stood there wearing only a pair of lacy black panties and a matching strapless bra. He let his eyes wander over her slowly and was sure that her entire body was blushing under his scrutiny. She was absolute perfection.

Jareth heard a peculiar humming sound that seemed to come from the very walls. Seconds later, a rush of warmth and well-being permeated his consciousness and he realized what was happening… the Labyrinth had become aware of what was transpiring and wished him to know that she approved, and the sound he was hearing was a contented purr. The sentient Labyrinth always expressed itself with somewhat feline characteristics. It had failed to give its approval for Enchantriella; not that he was surprised. It did, however, understand the absolute necessity for him to marry and therefore had not actively disapproved her. But this… Yes, the Labyrinth was very happy that Sarah was back. The approval of the Labyrinth as good as bonded and married him to Sarah.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking worried and anxious at his apparent hesitation.

He moved closer to her. "Nothing, Precious," he replied, taking her trembling hands and guiding them to the leather strings at his groin. "Nothing at all. You are absolutely the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I was momentarily rendered speechless."

She gave a shaky laugh and then hesitated before pushing his leather pants down his hips. "You're beautiful, too," she replied, looking him up and down unabashedly as he stepped out of his breeches.

He took her by the hand and, walking backward, led her to his bed. When they reached it, he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her, reveling in the feeling of skin against skin. She pressed into him, as though she couldn't get close enough. His pulse was racing in his veins as he covered her mouth with his, pouring his heart into the kiss. She hadn't let him say it with words, but he loved her more dearly than anything else, including his own life. Now that he had tasted her kiss, he would never be able to marry Enchantriella. Now that he had tasted Sarah's fire, her sweetness, he would never be able to let her go. Not that it would be possible; the Labyrinth would never allow it.

Giving over to the sensations coursing through him, he let himself fall with Sarah wrapped around him.

"Jareth, darling," called an annoyingly high pitched female voice. It was followed by a loud rapping sound. Jareth blinked groggily as he strove to wake up. "It's our wedding day! Are you awake? The ceremony is in just two hours." More knocking. "Are you decent?" There were sounds of girlish giggling after the mention of the word 'decent'.

Jareth looked down. He was sprawled naked on his bed. Sarah, equally naked, lay at his side, one long slender leg thrown over his abdomen, a silky sheet pulled up to their torsos. He was, quite emphatically, not decent.

"No, Enchantriella, I am not," he called back, his voice gravelly with sleep. Not that much sleeping had occurred last night. A lazy smile sprang to his face as he recalled just what last night had entailed.

She giggled again and opened the door. "Too bad! As of noon today, you will be my husband, so a sneak preview should not—" Her words died on her tongue as she stood staring at him. Jareth felt no remorse, no guilt, and very little pity. Too late, he gestured vaguely toward the foot of the bed and the sheet slid further up to cover them completely. He cursed himself mentally. He had locked the door leading to the hall last night, but in his eagerness to continue what Sarah had begun he had failed to lock the door adjoining his rooms to Enchantriella's.

He knew Enchantriella was only marrying him for his title and his wealth. She no more loved him than he loved her. "Oh," she said, frowning as though perplexed. "I see you treated yourself to one last night of freedom."

Jareth cocked an eyebrow. She wasn't reacting at all as he had envisioned she would. "Enchantriella, we are not well-suited, you and I. You know this. You cannot be so very surprised."

She lifted her chin. "But we are engaged to be married, and I will have you honor that commitment. I think I'm being rather civil about this whole thing, but I won't tolerate it after today. You do know that." She wasn't asking. He had never seen her so commanding before. Perhaps she was not as impervious as she had first pretended. No matter; she would never be his queen.

Surprised that Sarah was sleeping so soundly, he wrapped his arm more tightly around her, reveling in the feeling of having woken with her in his arms. "Don't worry, Enchantriella... you shall not have to tolerate anything, because you will not be here," he replied calmly. "I am calling the wedding off. I intend to marry Sarah. In fact, I believe the Labyrinth has as good as done the deed for us, but I'm sure we'll go through with it for the formality."

At the mention of her name, Sarah stirred, sighing softly in her sleep. "Jareth," she whispered against his neck. He felt her body stretch, felt her leg tense and move against him, and felt himself react.

Longing to wake Sarah up in a truly devious way, he frowned at the woman still standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes looking pointedly to where Sarah's leg was resting. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, irritated beyond belief. "Did I not make myself perfectly clear?"

"She's nothing but a human tramp, Jareth, don't be ridiculous, please. You aren't going to embarrass me in front of all of my family and friends."

He laughed. "And that is all you care about. No upset over me having another woman in my bed, no protestations that you love me and cannot live without me… Ah, but it is just as well, for I don't love you. This marriage that was to take place today… this sham… was to fulfill an ancient law that I be married by a certain date. Well, you are no longer needed, because I will be married by then, only it shall be to Sarah rather than you."

"Why her?" she demanded, her face flushing hotly with anger. Obviously the spoiled princess had not often heard the word 'no' in her ancestral home...

Jareth shook his head. "I have neither the time nor the patience for this," he muttered. Gesturing toward Enchantriella, he sent her to an oubliette until his parents arrived and he could talk to them. They may already be there; knowing his mother she would be overseeing all of the decorating and preparations.

He looked at Sarah with regret. There would be no romantic morning; he hadn't the time. "Precious, wake up."

She stirred, stretching again and reminding him that he had drunk an enormous amount of Goblin ale and had not expelled any of it as of yet. Shaking her slightly, he kissed the top of her head. "Come on, Sarah, we have things to talk about and do."

"Not yet," she murmured, sounding as drunk as she had been the previous evening. "Five more minutes."

"We don't have five more minutes, love," he replied regretfully, rolling her off him and onto her back. "We would have had, but they were stolen away by the dismal Enchantriella."

"Enchilada?" Sarah asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. The sheet fell to her waist as she smiled at him sleepily. "Good morning."

Jareth grinned. "Good morning," he replied. He had been worried that she would wake up ranting and raving about mistakes and how he had taken advantage of her. She didn't appear inclined to do any of that, he noted with relief.

"What were you saying about your… about that woman?" she asked, running a hand through her tangle of curls.

"Enchantriella," he corrected, enjoying her reaction to the ridiculous name.

"Whatever," she said, looking annoyed and waving a hand as if to shoo thoughts of the other woman away.

He reached over to take her hand. "Are you jealous, my Sarah?"

"Me?" she said, feigning innocence. "Why would I be jealous of her? After all, she gets to marry you today, sure, but I… I got to have you for a whole… what…" She glanced around for a clock. Finding none, she consulted the watch on her wrist. "Nine hours." Covering her face with her hands, she groaned. "Oh, I can't believe this."

"Can't believe what, exactly?" he asked.

She split her fingers to stare at him. "That I've finally come back and found you here, as I've been secretly hoping to do every time I visited for seventeen years, and when I finally do, it's the day before your wedding to a woman named after a Mexican dish."

Sarah was jealous... Sarah was jealous. Sarah was ijealous/i!

Suppressing a grin, he said, "Love, there is a slight difference between Enchantriella and Enchilada."

"Not a damn lot," she replied heatedly. "Would you please stop defending her stupid name, already? You're making my hangover twenty times worse!"

Laughing out loud, Jareth reached out and grabbed Sarah by the shoulder, pulling her back down beside him. Straddling her, he leaned down and kissed her with passion. "Darling girl, how I adore you!"

She scowled at him, trying to buck him off, which only served to heighten his enjoyment of their position. "Right. 'I adore you! Now let me send you home so I can marry my lovely princess fiancée and forget all about you!'" she responded sarcastically.

Jareth grasped her wrists and held them firmly above her head while she struggled. "You really are quite the adorable idiot, Sarah," he said. "So you wish to talk of my forgetting, do you? Well, let us discuss exactly who is in my deepest, darkest oubliette right at this very moment. You do remember the definition of an oubliette, do you not?"

She stopped wiggling around so much, her interest piqued. "Who?" she asked petulantly.

He produced a crystal and held it up for her to see. Narrowing her eyes, she looked into it. The woman inside was yelling and stomping her tiny feet, waving her fists in the air in a decidedly pathetic manner. Raising her eyebrows, she said, "Enchilada?"

"Yes," he replied, laughing. "Enchilada."

"Why?"

"Because she found us together this morning and demanded that I give you up," he said casually. "I refused, and when she chose to argue the point despite my generous explanation that she and I no longer would have to suffer each other for an eternity, I simply banished her so I could make some very important alterations in the wedding plans." He leaned down and kissed her, and she didn't protest.

She broke the kiss. "Alterations?" she asked, somewhat breathless.

"Yes, love, alterations," he agree, nuzzling her neck.

"Don't tease, Jareth, if you're not serious... I've wanted to come to you for a long time now, but I was afraid you would hate me," she continued, her voice growing more breathless as he shifted against her, moving lower on her body. "I realized years ago that every relationship I attempted was doomed. I've been secretly hoping to run into you every time I've visited. Jareth, it had simply become ridiculously obvious how much power you've always had over me... it was just embarrassing and humbling to admit."

She had just given him a precious gift… Her words of seventeen years ago were now null and void. Which meant, of course, that she accepted his offer… all of it. "Fear me. Love me. Do as I say and I will be your slave," he said, repeating the words he had never thought to say again.

"Yes," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Smiling slowly, he said, "I love you, Sarah."

"I love you," she replied, smiling back at him. "What now?"

He grinned. "Now, we get married. Everything is ready, down to the last detail. I am certain that my parents are here and wondering exactly where we are, well where I am... Half the guests will be turned away, of course, because half of them are from Enchilada's side and they will not take kindly to the fact that she in an oubliette."

"Is that your idea of a proposal, Goblin King?" she asked, a grin forming on her own face. "Or was it the fear me, love me one?"

"Sarah Williams, Keeper of the Labyrinth and keeper of my heart," he said, kissing her jaw. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you! I must beg of you to put an end to my suffering and consent to be my wife…"

"You quoted 'Pride and Prejudice'," she replied happily. "How can I refuse? I must point out, however, in the interest of accuracy that I believe I put an end to your 'suffering' last night, several times over."

"Ah, 'tis true," he conceded. "However," he said, pressing against her, "allow me to point out that my suffering has returned, with a vengeance, and the fact that we have no time right now to alleviate it is most unfortunate."

Smiling, she rotated her hips beneath him and said, "Perhaps we could take care of it rather quickly…"

A knock sounded at the door. "Oh, no. Not again."

"It's bolted," Sarah said, scrambling to pull up the sheet.

He sighed sensing the presence at the door. "It's my mother," he replied, not bothering to explain that his mother was sometimes called 'Houdini'. Sarah would find out soon enough. Louder, he called out, "Five minutes, Mother, if you please. I will join you in the dining room."

"Did you oversleep, my son?" she called.

"I did, yes," he replied. "Please, Mother… five minutes, I beg of you."

When he heard her walk away, he relaxed. "No more dawdling. Rise, darling, for in less than two hours' time we shall marry. I shall call a servant girl to assist you."

"I don't have a dress or gown or anything," she said, staring at him with wide eyes. "What am I supposed to wear? What if your parents hate me?"

"Calm yourself, Precious," he replied, smiling as he saw her eyes following him around. "If you'll step through that door, I believe you will find everything you need."

"You can't expect me to wear her wedding dress and things?" She gaped at him.

Jareth laughed, pulling on a dressing gown. "Never that," he replied good-naturedly. His parents were going to wonder where their sulking, moody and sarcastic son had gone. He doubted they would be able to believe the transformation Sarah had wrought in him. For that alone they would adore her. "Darling, the Labyrinth will have seen to your every need and whim. Not even the décor of the room will be the same as it was."

She frowned, wrapping a sheet around herself. "Come with me."

Shaking his head, he followed her into the adjoining rooms. As he had predicted, gone were the frills, the lace, the frothy pinks and the ruffles. The room was adorned in colors of fire, bright reds, oranges and sun-kissed yellows in tasteful fabrics and patterns; it was a room perfectly suited to his fiery Sarah. Glancing at her, he saw the approval in her eyes. In the corner of the room stood a mannequin bedecked in a spectacular gown of ivory and silver.

"Okay, okay," she relented, turning to him with a small grin. "This could only be my room. Get out now, before you see the dress too closely. Go! I'll get dressed and go with you to meet your parents." She pushed him through the door and bolted it, calling out, "I love you!"

"I love you, Precious," he called, laughing.

Singing to himself, Jareth dressed and prepared to go downstairs and introduce his bride to his parents. He silently promised to thank and reward Grover for bringing him that mug of Goblin ale; without it today would have turned out very differently. Very differently, indeed. Grover, it seemed, was about to become the most spoiled and doted upon Goblin in the Underground.

fin


End file.
